Eternal Regret
by TheaterLife
Summary: But the blood of a Largo was never shed by a Largo. Luigi had crossed that line, when he thought that it couldn't be broken.


Never in his life did he think he would feel sorry for his brother. But he had gone too far. He was filled with disgust, pity, the ever present rage, guilt, and the lingering adrenaline.

Guilt. That was a new one for Luigi Largo. He'd never felt guilt. Not after his first kill and certainly not after the multiple times he had hurt his brother. But this was different. This was beyond guilt. Luigi was filled with regret. Luigi Largo was filled with fucking regret. And it was tearing him apart. It ate at the corners of his mind and the edges of what felt like his heart.

His chest hurt, his inner being feeling shattered. He has crossed a line that he thought could never be broken. This time wasn't like when he broke his brother's leg, or like when he crushed Carmela's dreams and hopes for a better world. He had caused lasting damage. Physical damage. He couldn't undo this one.

His family was always shown to the world as physically perfect, holding up to any media inspection. The handsome Rotti Largo, his two stunning sons, and his beautiful daughter. Not a soul would say otherwise was true. Their life at home, however, was less than gorgeous. There was yelling and screaming at all hours of the day, and tears and bickering at all hours of the night.

But the blood of a Largo was never shed by a Largo.

That crossed a line that was worse than anything that any Largo could imagine. It was worse than any rape or any murder that any of the three children could ever have committed.

Pavi had always been a handsome boy. He's always been told so. Never had it been thought to deny it. His long hair, his high cheek bones, his slender nose… It made Luigi hate him. He despised his brother with every part of his soul. But never enough to hurt him.

He'd never hated him that much. Never in his life had he been blinded by such a rage to hurt his own flesh and blood. He had never been filled with such a rage as to be compelled to actually hurt his brother. He had been overflowing with rage before, this was true, he had seen red.

But he had never had such a fire course through his veins, he had never had such horrible, burning heat fill his body as to do this… Never in his life had he felt such horror.

He did this. He had done this to his own brother. His blood was cold. His body was frozen. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't blink. His face was slowly changing from and uncontrollable, blinding rage, to a frozen, horrified shock.

Pavi Largo, the handsome, middle Largo child lay on the floor, shaking in terror in a pool of his own blood. Luigi stood above him, a knife in one hand, and a fist of glowing embers in the other.

The horrid stench of blood and burnt flesh filled the air. They were frozen in time, this moment would never leave their memories.

Their breathing was just barely audible above the crackling of the fire. The room's deep brown walls and floors showed Luigi's dancing shadow, the only movement in the room, save for the flames. Everything in the room was nonexistent for the two brothers, from the deep leather chairs, to the heavy, leather books. There was nothing there, except from themselves, that stench, and the blood. All of that blood…

In just a moment, Pavi flinched as his brother dropped the knife and the glowing embers to the ground, adding a new sound, the crash of the knife, and the sizzle of the embers in Pavi's blood. But to the brothers, the room was still silent. Nothing existed except the other. The tension in the room was unbreakable.

The silence of the room was broken only as Rotti Largo's henchgirls gracefully crashed though the heavy, oak doors, followed in suit by Rottisimo himself. Still, neither brother moved.

What happened next seemingly passed by in slow motion. Luigi couldn't even hear what was being yelled at him.

His father stormed forward, screaming at his eldest child, tearing him away from the now still Pavi. He was numb. GeneCo's founder descended to his knees, crying, still uttering curses at Luigi. Only as Genterns and SurGENs filled the room to asses Pavi's face and overall condition did Luigi's senses return to him.

The room was alive with noise: screaming, muttering, yelling, and crying. The tears did not belong just to Rotti and his youngest son, but, to Luigi's horror, his own as well. He felt the tears on his face first, then the burning in his hand, then he realized what he had done.

As his brother's mutilated face came into view, he regained his breath. He felt shame and horror as he backed up, fleeing from the room, from his tears, from his shame, and from his regret.

* * *

There we go! My thoughts on Pavi's face. I only hope that it is different from most of the other ones, I'd hate to have them similar, and if they are, please let me know! If there are issues in sentence flow or spelling, I apologize. I have no real beta, and I never catch my own mistakes. Critiques are always appreciated!

Note: I chose not to continue this, because I've realized that I cannot make a follow up chapter that matched the tone of this one.


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